Time Walker
by LuciferDragon
Summary: The Old Religion never dies. It is carried though the ages by those still dedicated to serving the ancient beings and using the magics they are gifted with. One such young woman, blessed with an emerging gift, is sent back to the days of Camelot's reign by an old man determined to get what he wants in any way he can. Set during the year between season 3 and 4.
1. Chapter 1

Experimental right now. If this sounds interesting, let me know and I'll keep going with it. Thanks for choosing to read my story.

* * *

**Time Walker**

Earrings jingled in her ears as she stalked the straw-covered streets, the sounds mixing with the light airy chatter of reinactors and music. She twirled the twisted dragon about her neck as her anxiety mounted trying to find the right tent.

"Zara?"

She stopped short and turned around, her chestnut-dyed hair falling from her shoulders in the process. "I've been looking all over for you! This place is a madhouse!"

The woman who had addressed her nodded in agreement, her hands folded politely over her old-world dress. Her graying hair was swept from her face in a fast knot to keep it out of the way, giving her the appearance of a servant. Her fingers poked through old gloves as she motioned for Zara to follow her into the brightly colored tent behind her.

Zara was overwhelmed at how much work was put into the Renaissance Fairs. When she got the job that was offered months ago, she was restricted to nothing but studying the old ways. The speech, the cooking, sewing her own dress that she had draped over her shoulder at the moment, everything that could possibly have been done in the times of the Renaissance she had to learn.

In doing so, her research brought her to the… more interesting side of the tales. The legends of magic and dragons, which deepened her already dense interest in the creatures. It made her wonder if some of the legends were actually fact. Most of the time, as she had discovered by then, myths and legends were based on some amount of fact.

She conversed with the woman sparingly, working on her accent and dialogue as she helped Zara into her undergarments and her dress. She handed Zara a pair of modest-looking leather slippers. "You'll be needing these, Miss."

Zara nodded and sat on the nearest solid object, throwing off her flip-flops and tossing them into a corner with her street clothes.

"Let's have a look at you." She motioned for Zara to do a small spin, making sure everything was in place. "Good." She thrust a basket into Zara's hand. "Wander the streets and talk with the people and visitors. The king has announced a jousting tournament for later."

Zara had been too preoccupied with admiring her dress to take much notice to what the woman had said. She had opted for the least expensive of cloth, due to her lack of finances, and made herself a red gown fitted with black lining. Everything hugged her frame, and gave her curves she didn't even know she had. The skirt billowed out around her hips, and when she had spun, she wanted to giggle like a little girl again as it settled back down at her toes.

"Zara, did you hear me?"

"Hm? Oh yes, jousting. Men beating each other off a horse with poles. Must be a grand sight." The accent never faltered, and she praised herself with figuring out how to get it just right. "So just wander listlessly?"

"That's right." She smiled. "Since it's you're first day working, there should be plenty of things to catch your interest."

* * *

Zara spent hours wandering the streets, looking at all the jewelry and other artifacts.

A man held up a necklace with a large emerald in the center. "It matches your eyes. What do you think?"

Zara smiled. "No, no thank you sir." She bowed politely to the man and turned away, wandering to the outskirts of encampment. She stopped and narrowed her eyes as a small tent came into view, further away than the others. Smoke from a fire billowed out, giving an ominous feeling to it. She rubbed at her arms with a sudden chill, but proceeded forward anyway. "Hello? Is anyone home?" She crept forward, listening for anything besides the crackling of the fire.

"Good afternoon, mi'lady."

Zara jumped as a male voice addressed her from behind. She held a hand to her heart and turned to see a hunched old man stumbling towards her, a satchel slung over his arm. He wore ragged old robes that seemed several sizes too big for him.

He gave a slight smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Why are you out so far away?"

His smile faltered. "The others don't particularly enjoy what I bring to the fairs. Or what I can do for people. Fortune tellers are usually cast out anyway."

She frowned. "I don't see why. Not all magic is bad."

The man's smile returned. "Why don't you come inside, I'll give you a reading."

* * *

Zara looked over the ancient-looking artifacts hanging from the supports of the tent as a strange spice smell filled her nose. "What is all this?"

"Things I use in my practice." He sat at table and indicated to the one next to him. "Please, sit."

She nodded and sat in the empty seat, extending her hand to the man. Her long bell sleeves grazed the bare ground. "How did you learn all this?"

"Family secret. Passed through the generations." He examined her hand, tracing the lines with his shaking, wrinkled ones. "Twenty-one. Long Irish bloodline. Paternal line says Italian."

"Family liked to keep it European."

The man nodded. He moved on, but stopped as if he found something.

Her brows knitted in confusion. "What is it?"

"You seem to be tied in the old ways as well, somewhere down the line."

"The old ways?"

Wordlessly, the man rose and moved to a shelf, leafing through a few books resting there. He plucked one off the shelf and brought it to her. It was a very old leather tome, engraved in a strange symbol she had never seen before. "The Old Religion."

"How old is old?" She took the book and flipped through it, seeing extremely old writing that she couldn't quite understand, as well as images of creatures and things that only myths spoke of.

"Older than the time of dragons."

"The dragons? They existed?"

"For a time. Before they and the dragon lords were wiped out." He sat again. "Magic was a thing too. The Old Religion was based off it, and created beings made by magic."

"Must've been a very nice time to live in." Her accent began to drop as she grew tired of make believe.

The old man arched a brow. "Some were. Before and after magic was outlawed."

"How can a thing like that be outlawed. It's a gift, isn't it?"

"A certain king didn't think of it that way. Anyone with the gift was slaughtered on sight. No trial, no reasoning. All magic was viewed as evil. And no one was exempt. Not even the youngest whom had no idea of what they were doing."

"That's horrible…" She rubbed at her arm. "Still…"

"Still?"

"Even with the ban, it must've been a nicer time to live than now."

The old man arched a brow. "You don't like the modern age? Most people your age do."

"It's just too much. Right now I'm worried about car payments, trying to save up for college, all the while helping with putting food on the table. Nothing here feels right." She gave a slight laugh. "Guess I should get used to it. Not much can be done, I suppose." Zara reached for her basket. "I think I've kept you long enough. Thank you for everything Mr…"

The old man grabbed her forearm in a surprisingly strong grip. "Now who said nothing can be done?" His grasp tightened, making her gasp in pain. "There is something I need you to do, and I think you're the perfect one for the job."

Her arm burned under her sleeve as if she were being touched with a red hot poker, making her cry out and focus her attention on the limb in question. When she looked back to the man, his eyes were glowing a dark amber. "What on Earth?"

"See you on the other side, Zara."

She wanted to ask what the man meant, but felt her windpipe beginning to tighten painfully. Every particle in her body was on fire, and her vision grew hazy and dark. She heard the old man cackle, loud at first, and then it faded to nothing as her sight completely gave out. Immediately she felt like she was floating in a river of fire, and she twisted in agony.

Almost as soon as it started, it all faded away. The ground beneath her grew solid once again, though damp with moisture. She tried opening her eyes, only to be met with excruciating pain on the side of her head.

"I thought I heard something over here."

"Sure you're not hearing things, Gwaine?"

"No, this time I'm certain I heard something." There was a pause followed by, "Elyan, over here. Quickly!"

Zara felt strong arms prop her up into a sitting position, almost making her cry out in pain.

"What are you doing out here, young lady? Who are you?"

Zara squinted her eyes and shook her head, seeing faint outlines of people. She managed to say one sentence before her energy completely depleted. "Zara… I don't remember anything else."


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur stood off to the side, pressing a thumb to his lips in thought. "So what is wrong with the girl?"

Gaius paused in cleaning away the dried blood from the strange girl's head. "Seems she had a nasty fall in the woods. Must've landed on an upraised tree root." He nodded to her clothes. "Dress is torn, as if she was running from something."

"She was attacked?"

"Looks like it. We won't know anything more until she regains consciousness though."

"And when will that be?"

"I can't say for sure. I'll be able to dress the wounds when Merlin returns with the herbs for my poultice. Until then, it might be best if you return to your duties. I'll inform you of any updates we hear."

Arthur nodded and pushed off from the wall. "Can't have thieves in my father's kingdom. As soon as you find out any information—"

Gaius let a smile slip. "You'll be the first to know."

A winded Merlin entered the room, almost flinging the herb bag off his shoulders in his rush. "Extra of everything, just in case."

Gaius took the bag as Arthur left to resume his duties as acting king. "See if there's any other damage on her while I make the poultice. Whatever tore her dress most likely got skin at some point."

Merlin nodded as they exchanged seats so Gaius could go to his workstation. He looked on at the girl while he looked over her garments for any signs of blood. Despite the large gash in her forehead, she looked quite peaceful. Her chest rose and fell slightly in sleep, showing she felt no pain for the time being. He frowned at a large gash in her sleeve and moved to examine the skin beneath. The flesh was raised and irritated in what looked like a brand. All he could see was a crescent moon facing away from an attached full circle. Curiosity seeping in, he rolled her sleeve up to look at the whole thing. Instead of just the one crescent, there were two, both facing away from the circle. "What in the world is this?"

Gaius looked up from his work and turned his attention to his ward. "That is a symbol with quite a few meanings. Most of them peaceful, like the mark of the druids." He finished his poultice and returned to the girl, applying the salve to her open head wound.

"Most of them?"

"Until we actually know who she is, we must keep this quiet. It's a sign of magic."

"What does it mean normally?"

"It is pagan in origin. It is supposed to represent the three goddesses of the religion. It can also represent the cycles of the moon. So, it's relatively harmless."

His frown returned as the medic began dressing the larger wounds. "How could a sign of peace be threatening?"

"All forms of magic can be corrupted. Pagans are generally white magic. Healers in a sense."

"She doesn't look deadly."

"Neither did many of the women who deceived their way into the castle. For now, we'll keep her under close watch, both until she heals and when we can better assess why she's arrived in Camelot."


End file.
